To Win The War
by Clear Eyed Dreamer
Summary: Many small battles make up the emotional war between Bulma and Vegeta, each trying to beat the other in their sadistic game. Who will win the war on love when the score is forgotten?


**To Win the War**

My concentration was lost as the loud clang of metal on metal echoed throughout my lab. I slowly lowered my neatly sharpened pencil onto my workspace, purposefully drawing out the time he had to spend waiting for my attention. Not a word was said, but I knew who it was and exactly what he wanted. Reaching up, I moved an aqua colored tress of hair out of my face as I simultaneously glanced quickly towards the root of the noise.

There, sitting in a heap on my sterile metal workspace, was a mess of charred and broken metal that loosely resembled the training bots that I had so painstakingly created only weeks before. Their shiny metal exteriors were cracked and blackened on the edges, the seams had separated, and several interior wires were visible. Standing beside the rubbish was the cause of my recent, and current, frustration.

He stood there with a scowl on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were narrowed and their gaze didn't move from my face. He was angry. Good, because so was I. I took a moment to notice that he was wearing a loose t-shirt and cargo shorts, not his usual training attire. The decimation of my creations had happened at least earlier in the day then. He must have been stewing on his anger since.

"Hm," I managed quietly and looked back down at the plans I was creating.

"Well?" he answered gruffly.

"Well, it looks like you have an awful mess on your hands," I replied, being careful to keep my voice neutral. "I can ring for one of the maid bots to clean it up for you, if you'd like. Or you can just dispose of it yourself." I didn't have to look at him to know that his eyes were narrowed even more, and that he was probably quietly seething in anger.

"I don't need them cleaned up, I need them replaced," he bit off the words angrily. He was smart enough to know that I was not pleased with him. Possibly that was why he put off coming into my lab with the broken bots in the first place.

"Pity," was the only word I had for him.

My disinterest and lack of attention finally got the better of him with that one word, and he stormed over and slammed his fist down on the table I sat at.

"Now," he commanded.

His one word was much more infuriating then mine, and my neutral demeanor quickly disappeared. I jumped to my feet right in front of him and stuck a wonderfully manicured nail into his chest. "No," I hissed, and he growled low in response. His intimidation tactics may have worked better if we weren't almost looking eye to eye. "You said to leave you alone," I spat his own words back at him, "you said that you didn't need me." I pushed my finger harder into his chest, not that he would feel it. "I'm just following your orders!"

He settled back for a moment and I could see his brain at work, trying hard to find some way to make me do what he wanted. Maybe I would have relented in the past, but he rejected me callously when I tried to care for his wounds. It hurt, I won't lie. I was genuinely concerned about him, and he threw it back in my face. He would rot before I'd come to his aid again. I smiled smugly and laid my hands on my hips, switching my posture to one more feminine. I fluttered my eyelashes at him, "was that all?" I asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.

He opened his mouth to retort, but closed it again quickly, deciding to snarl at me instead. He whirled around and stalked out angrily. He'd be back.

I sighed and walked over to the trashed training bots. I poked at one curiously, and had to keep myself from jumping as it caved in on itself with just my slight touch. Vegeta certainly did a number on them. Maybe if he was nice to me for a while, I might just make new ones for him. Maybe.

The rest of the day and the entirety of the next passed peacefully without incident. My arrogant houseguest had seemed to have disappeared from the grounds, which was fine by me. If I never laid eyes on the man again, that would be fine by me as well.

Unfortunately, that was not to be. I stood outside my lab with my cigarette in one hand and my lighter in the other as I watched him land not five feet from me. Darn. I rolled my eyes, lit my cigarette and slid my lighter into the jacket of my labcoat. It was a filthy habit but it was my filthy habit.

"Are you any more amiable today?" He asked me, his voice taunting.

"Depends," I answered, "are you ready to apologize for being a self-centered jerk?"

"I don't apologize," he stated, tilting his head to the side in an irritatingly cocky way.

"No apologies, no new toys," I told him, "maybe you'll learn to appreciate what you have." Maybe he'll learn to appreciate me and all I do for him.

He cocked an eyebrow in annoyance, "I am not a spoiled child, you will not treat me as such."

"What can I say, Vegeta? You break your toys, you demand replacements, throw temper tantrums, sling insults, and never once say 'thank you'. Were you this spoiled as I child?" I take a long drag on my cigarette. "Because if you were, remind me to thank your parents for turning you into the spoiled brat that I now have to deal with."

"Watch your words, woman," he seethed, "you're crossing a line." He grabbed the cigarette from between my lips and threw it on the ground, snuffing it out with his boot as he did so.

"Hey!" I cried, that was my last one.

"That smell is disgusting," he stated with a turned up nose, "I will not tolerate it."

"You ass!" I exclaimed, as I stomped my foot in irritation and balled my fists at my sides. "Who asked you to tolerate it? It's not yours to tolerate!"

"Now, now, Bulma, would that be a temper tantrum that you're having?" His smug smile returned.

"No," I replied through clenched teeth as I forced my hands out of fists. Damn him. He knew perfectly well how to incite my temper, and he was way too good at it. "I am merely expressing my displeasure in a calm adult fashion." I carefully changed my facial expression to be as calm as it possibly could considering how strong my emotions were at that moment.

"Good," he said, earning a look of surprise from me, "if you're a calm adult, then you won't mind replacing my training aids."

"Argh!" I practically screamed and pounded my fists on his chest.

He snickered and grabbed my forearms to still me, "is that a 'no'?"

I tried in vain to pull my arms away from him, "that is a hell no!" I growled. Everything always came back to training with him, and what I could do to help his training. I was sick and tired of being used by a man who didn't appreciate me or what I did for him, who only demanded more and more. I refused to bow to his demands.

"Pity," he mocked me with my own words.

I made another attempt to grab my arms away, "let go of me right now!"

"If you insist," he let go of my arms just as I pulled on them again, causing me to stumble backwards.

"Ass," I muttered, rubbing my forearms, slightly surprised that he hadn't gripped me hard enough to cause any bruising.

"Your moron is here," Vegeta interjected abruptly. He crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes.

I shot him a confused look. I didn't understand what he was talking about until Yamcha rounded the corner of my lab and started towards us. My boyfriend, as much as I adored him, was not who I wanted to see at that moment. My confrontations with Vegeta were aggravating enough without throwing in someone that he thought wasn't worthy of breathing air itself, much less the same air he breathed.

I sighed and placed a tender hand on my temple, I could already feel my headache forming. "Please be nice," I practically begged Vegeta under my breath. I wasn't in the mood to once again listen to Yamchas list of reasons I was in the wrong for letting Vegeta live with me. Every time the two of them went at it, the list grew ever longer. I held Vegeta's gaze for a moment, pleading with my eyes for him not to instigate an argument with Yamcha. Not that I actually thought he would take pity on me and refrain from fighting with Yamcha, but I gave it a shot anyway. I finally tore my eyes from his when Yamcha sidled up to me and kissed my cheek.

I put on the best fake smile I could and looked up at my boyfriend, "hey honey, what are you doing here?"

He grinned back down at me, "was just in the neighbourhood and thought I would drop in to see my best gal." He nervously looked at the shorter man, "I'm not interrupting something, am I?"

I snorted, "of course not," I laughed. Yamcha's obvious jealousy over Vegeta living with me was nothing short of laughable.

Vegeta shrugged, "personally, I felt like we were bonding, really forging a close connection." He looked at me with a devious smile.

"Don't you start," I seethed, shooting him what I thought was an intimidating look.

Yamcha shuffled his weight from foot to foot. "What were you guys discussing?" he asked, the discomfort in his voice evident. I felt sorry for him.

"It wasn't so much the discussion, as it was the… physical connection," Vegeta grinned at Yamcha.

I gasped and smacked Vegeta on the arm, "what are you talking about? There was no 'physical connection'! You grabbed my arms to keep me from…" I trailed off. How could I possibly finish that sentence? To keep me from pummeling you, beating you, punching you? Each and every option was equally ridiculous, as nothing I could do to the Saiyan would result in any pain. "Don't you have anything better to do than torment us?" I asked him, cuddling up to Yamchas side.

Vegeta shook his head. "Nope, absolutely nothing better to do. My training aids are destroyed, remember?" Once again, his grin turned devious as he switched his attention from the man at my side to me. So this was his game.

I smiled sweetly at him, "and maybe if you go away right now, you'll have those training aids back in a day or two."

"'Maybe' isn't good enough," he replied.

"Fine," I sighed and rolled my eyes, "I will repair your stupid bots."

The look of triumph on his face was unmistakable, and completely infuriating. "Was that so hard?" he taunted, as he backed away to leave.

I glared at his retreating form with murderous intent. I did not like to lose, especially to one as arrogant as Vegeta. I looked at the man at my side. If only Yamcha hadn't shown up, he was my obvious weakness. If he wasn't so insecure to think I would cheat on him with any gorgeous guy that came my way, I wouldn't have had to give in to Vegeta to keep him from playing off Yamcha's insecurities.

"What was that all about?" Yamcha asked, disrupting my violent thoughts.

"Don't worry about it," I replied. Vegeta may have won this battle, but I would win the war.


End file.
